


British Bombs (And Other Whimsical Wartime Preparations)

by heistsociety



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, F/M, M/M, basically everyone in marauders lol, obligatory marauders era fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 19:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20587637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heistsociety/pseuds/heistsociety
Summary: The year was 1976. Tensions were rising to the beat of the Beatles, a grimy undertone to days spent reclining in the sun and flipping through magazines with sticky ice cream fingers. As the temperatures dropped and took with them a sense of summer innocence, a scarlet express arrived in a hidden corridor of Kings Cross, awaiting the arrival of students returning to another year at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.OrA look into the latter school years of the Marauders.





	British Bombs (And Other Whimsical Wartime Preparations)

**Author's Note:**

> me: ah yes college app szn the most stressful szn of all time im gonna have no time to do anything!  
me to me: write a whole ass marauders fic  
ive been wanting to try my hand at this for a while and i KNOW this is a huge project and i KNOW there are a hundred thousand other versions of this out there but hey i bet none of them have the very specific headcanons that i harbor ??? maybe ??? anyway i hope u enjoy and please leave a comment or a review to fuel me i have very little fuel left  
ps i know this first chapters like kind of cute and short and i do plan on making the rest of the chapters Longer i just rlly wanted to get this out there  
also this is unbeta'd so srry for any mistakes like i said i just want this OUT THERE

_I don't know what we're doing here_  
_After all these years_  
_But in this campground daylight_  
_Terror's lost through our minds_

The year was 1976. Tensions were rising to the beat of the Beatles, a grimy undertone to days spent reclining in the sun and flipping through magazines with sticky ice cream fingers. As the temperatures dropped and took with them a sense of summer innocence, a scarlet express arrived in a hidden corridor of Kings Cross, awaiting the arrival of students returning to another year at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

One such student was James Potter, a young lad (as he often referred to himself, boy too youthful a word and man too harsh) with black hair as unruly as himself and a pair of thin-wired glasses askew atop his nose, who prided himself on his charisma (or, as Remus might call it, his ability to utterly annoy anyone into doing anything). Accompanying him was Sirius Black, his closest partner-in-crime, a young man (because he thought he had the maturity and good looks to consider himself a man, unlike James) of the tall, dark, handsome, motorbike-riding variety. Having already bid adieu to Fleamont and Euphemia Potter, both of them receiving crushing hugs from Euphemia and firm handshakes from Fleamont as they talked their way around promising not to get into trouble (they had every intention of getting into trouble), they were on their way to board the Hogwarts Express, James whistling cheerfully as they pulled their luggage along.

“Is that ABBA?” asked Sirius, upon recognizing the song. “You sellout.”

“ABBA is good, you arse,” James protested, much to Sirius’ chagrin. “Most _normal_ people don’t enjoy bleeding their ears out to the Buttdicks and the Sex Penises.”

“The Buzzcocks and the Sex Pistols, you uneducated ninny,” said Sirius, although his tone was light. “And anyway, since when have any of us been normal?”

“Touché,” said James, as they boarded the train.

Once on board, they headed straight for the second -to-last compartment on the train – the Marauders’ unofficial official exclusive compartment, which they’d claimed every year since they met as small, anxious first-years and swore to an everlasting friendship. So far, they’d kept the promise.

Already, Peter Pettigrew, a mousy, chubby boy with sandy hair and an eagerness about him, was sitting inside, a slimy brown toad on his lap. James pushed the doors open with a flourish, only to wrinkle his nose at the sight of toad.

“Venus is still alive, I see,” said Sirius as he followed James in, his disdain for Peter’s amphibian friend evident in his voice.

Peter looked delighted, probably because he was delighted. “Hello, James, Sirius,” he said happily, and, either ignoring or (more probably) missing the tone of Sirius’ comment, continued, “You know how I thought she died two months ago when she got really still and cold and wouldn’t wake up and I almost flushed her down the john? It’s a good thing I didn’t, because two days ago, I woke up and, just like old times, she was sitting on my chest, trying to smother me in my sleep.”

James grimaced and shared a highly concerned look with Sirius, but because he was a good friend and didn’t want to spoil Peter’s strange, strange joy, he simply said, “Great,” and hoped that Peter wouldn’t pick up on the fact that James did not think this was very great. He sat down across from Peter and propped his feet up on the empty space beside him, trying hard not to make eye contact with Venus, hoping that toads had a very short memory span and that Venus did not remember the fact that James and Sirius were the ones who had Petrificus Totalused her in the hopes of finally being free from her vicious grasp. Based on the stink eye that Venus was giving James, though, he was fairly certain that she remembered with a vengeance.

Sirius plopped down on the bench beside James, avoiding Venus just the same, and kicked his own feet up onto the window ledge. He leaned into James’ side, turning his head to peer out the glass doors as if in the hopes of summoning Remus’ arrival to complete their band of mischief-makers (or, more kindly put, band of brothers).

“How was your summer?” asked Peter, setting down the comic book he was reading in favor of his much preferred method of entertainment.

“You know how our summers were,” James replied. “You were there for most of it.” The Potters had regularly hosted the Marauders in their house throughout the summer, so Peter had missed out on very little in James’ life. And what he hadn’t been there for, the sole adventures of James and Sirius, he’d been recounted about in letters.

“Yes, but isn’t that the polite thing to ask your friends when coming back from summer break?”

“Only if you’re an absolute bore,” said Sirius, who had taken to having an intense staring contest with the door.

“Well,” said Peter indignantly, and then, “Aren’t you going to ask me how my summer was?”

“But I already know how your summer was,” said James, at the same time that Sirius said, “I just said that small talk is for bores, Pete, Keep up.”

Peter looked, perhaps, like he wanted to argue both these points, but before he could, Sirius asked “Where’s Remus?” and James said, “Maybe he’s shirking off his duties and making werewolf babies with some fit blonde,” and his point was forgotten.

_We used to roam around these grounds_  
_Kings and queens of all around_  
_We ruled this place with iron fists_  
_When we were just kids_

In fact, Remus Lupin was not shirking off his duties, but performing them, and he told as much to James and Sirius after they made obscene hand gestures at him upon his much-awaited appearance in the compartment. Remus, the quietest of the four, was a lanky, pale boy, only lightly freckled from the sun, but charming in an agreeable, sweater-wearing, book-reading sort of way. He also happened to be sporting a Prefect’s Badge, the reason that he’d been gone for the majority of the train ride, which was now only about a half hour away from its end.

“If I had a pretty blonde girlfriend, I wouldn’t be hanging around you fools, now would I?” said Remus, pushing James’ legs off the seat so that he could sit down.

“But Moony,” said Sirius, pouting. “I thought we had something special.”

James, adjusting his seat and leaning forward conspiratorially, said, “So you were at a Prefect’s Meeting? Was Evans there?”

This question was met with immediate groans from all three of James’ friends, who had already heard enough incessant Lily Evans chatter to last a lifetime.

“What?” asked James defensively. “I’m just asking.”

“And I’m not answering,” said Remus, to James’ disappointment and Sirius and Peter’s relief. “So, what were you chatting on about before I got here? Other than my gallivanting love life, of course.”

If James was too bothered by the topic change, he didn’t show it. “We were talking about my last letter from Marlene,” he supplied. “Marlene’s brother – Mark, that is – apparently spent the summer building a human-sized catapult in their backyard. He masked it with an invisibility spell so their parents didn’t even notice until he used it to toss Marty across the street into the neighbor’s roof. They had a hell of a time trying to explain how a giant wooden catapult just materialized in their front yard.”

“That’s insane,” said Remus.

“That’s _genius,_” corrected Sirius.

“I was just thinking,” said James, “that we need to do something as genius as Mark McKinnon’s catapult to announce our re-arrival at Hogwarts. Everyone’s spent a whole summer without us. We need to remind them of our greatness and how much they’ve missed us.”

“That sounds like a terrible idea,” said Remus, who had very vivid memories of their past four welcome back entrance pranks, all of which had been born from the mind of James, and all of which had ended poorly.

“That sounds like a _great_ idea,” corrected Peter, who had the same memories, but thought that they had been insurmountable successes.

“Start the year off with a bang,” said Sirius, who knew that this was going to go spectacularly wrong, but was an agent of chaos. “I like it.”

“Let’s plan the entrance of the century, then,” said James, with great pleasure. “We can call it Operation Entrance of the Century Five.” He spread his hands out in the air with a flourish, an air of performance. Peter nodded eagerly.

“Godric’s sake,” said Remus, resigned. “Fine. But no fire this time.”

_We felt that looking back in life brings out the best in us_  
_Remembering a distant time of campground summer crochets_  
_We're scared to death of leaving here and having to grow up_  
_What are we when autumn comes?_

As it turned out, fire was a staple in most of James’ ideas, so Remus’ (very unreasonable, James thought) request put quite the damper on Operation Entrance of the Century Five. It took them the rest of the train ride to come up with a base plan, at which point Remus, who hadn’t quite been on board to begin with, was starting to feel rather regretful; Peter, who hadn’t gotten much sleep the previous night, was starting to feel a bit confused; and Sirius, who was still an agent of chaos and anarchy, was eager to present a big fuck you to authority.

When they disembarked the train, they were at what James called Planning Stage Two, and what Remus called ‘the point where things start to go very wrong.’ As they waited for the next carriage to arrive, they were approached by two harried-looking girls – a brunette bombshell by the name of Marlene McKinnon, and her volatile compatriot, Mary Macdonald.

“Oi, Potter,” said Marlene, slapping the back of his head as a form of affectionate greeting. She, a long-time friend of James’ and a more recent friend of Sirius’, was at once pleased to see her friends and so, so ready to gift them with a hard time. Mary, on the other hand, hung back a bit, apprehensive of the Marauders whom she knew mostly by reputation and rumor, and did they have quite the reputation and the rumors.

“What was that for?” asked James, rubbing the back of his head.

“I dunno yet, but I’m sure you did something,” said Marlene to James, and then, to the Marauders as a collective, “Have any of you seen Lily?”

Met with a resounding no from all four Marauders, Marlene sighed in an immensely dramatic manner. “Men are useless,” she said. Offering no further explanation, she hooked her elbow around Mary’s and pulled the other girl along, presumably to look for Lily.

“I wonder what’s happened to her,” said Peter thoughtfully.

“Don’t say it like that,” said James, frowning. “You’re making it sound like she’s been involved in some horrible accident.”

Sirius, who had very little interest in the location and life of Lily Evans and wanted to return to their discussion of Operation Entrance of the Century Five, said boredly, “Moony, you must’ve seen her at the Prefect’s meeting.”

“As a matter of fact, I did,” said Remus, putting an end to this train of thought. “She’s probably just out by the lake helping the first years.”

“Shouldn’t you be out doing that, then, Prefect Moony?” asked Sirius, wiggling his eyebrows. “Those ickle first years are probably in such need of your manly directions.”

“Bite me,” said Remus.

Their bickering continued until an empty carriage arrived for them, at which point Peter helpfully directed the conversation back to their entrance. James happily reapplied himself to the plan, letting Remus’ trusted opinion assure him that Lily was, indeed, just fine.

_We're here for one last summer_  
_ Before we give up and grow older_  
_ We're here for one last summer_  
_ Before we give up and grow older_

Operation Entrance of the Century Five happened in five parts.

One: Peter, disguised as a lost first year with the help of Remus’ stellar transfiguration skills, was ushered into a group of first years by a distressed Hagrid and led into the room before the Great Hall. There, he released Venus, who had been sitting in her cage for the majority of the train ride, out into the crowd, where she, grateful to no longer be confined in a place where she might have to smell her own excretions, answered nature’s call. Before long, the unusually concentrated scent of Venus’ (as James elegantly put it) dump rose to the noses of the first years, who began muttering amongst themselves restlessly. Finally, a scream rose from the crowd as someone noticed Venus (and her red, glowing eyes, which James swore was not a normal trait for her breed of toad) hopping around between their feet and the crowd finally descended into a state of complete chaos, forcing most of the professors to leave their posts in the Great Hall and come deal with the frenzied first years.

Two: Marlene, whose help James roped in as soon as they got off the carriages, and who never gave up a chance to watch James make a fool of himself, served to further the distraction. After acquiring a dozen bags of Mary’s freshly conjured bread rolls, she sat down at the Gryffindor table and innocuously began to spell bread rolls out of the bags so that they’d hit various students and teachers at a rapid rate.

Three: Sirius snuck off as soon as they reached the castle to collect every single broom from every single broom closet on the first floor, charming each of them to fly on their own back to the Great Hall, where they would add to the havoc among the bread rolls, which were now being tossed back and forth in a rather violent food fight.

Four: Remus, who refused to take a larger part in this plan because he was a _killjoy_, stood watch as James enacted

Five: James, now joined once again by Sirius and Peter and armed with a plethora of fireworks (which Remus argued violated the terms of their agreement) purchased at the end of last year from Zonko’s Joke Shop, pushed open the doors of the Great Hall with the flourish of a Vegas showgirl, sending five fireworks shooting up into the air, and stepped inside.

“VIVA LA MARAUDERS!” he yelled, his amplified voice rumbling through the Great Hall as the other Marauders stepped in to marvel at their creation. The entirety of Hogwarts was in utter anarchy, battling brooms, bread rolls, or traumatized first years. The shouting was so prominent that James could barely hear himself think. Even Remus, as he later admitted, was rather impressed that they’d pulled it off.

That was, of course, until an ear-splitting whistle sounded from the opposite end of the Great Hall, stopping all panicked civilians in their tracks as prefect Lily Evans, a red-haired emblem of sheer perfection, stood and raised her wand to freeze the brooms in mid-air.

But not (because karma does have a sense of humor) before a broom, whizzing a little lower than the rest at a speed a little higher than the rest, knocked its handle right into James’ forehead, accompanied by an immediate black out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jsyk my real hc is that venus is actually the one that betrays james and lily #devastating


End file.
